


Polaroids

by youwerefantasticrose



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Roski - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:37:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwerefantasticrose/pseuds/youwerefantasticrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't until she's gone that he finds them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaroids

It isn’t until she’s gone that he finds them. 

*

Jackie had bought the camera for her a couple weeks after they’d gotten here, going on and on about they’d want to remember this, their new family and their new home. She’d forcibly dragged Rose over from Torchwood, dropping the old camera into her hands halfway through the party. 

She’d turned it over in her hands for the next hour, eyes down so she won’t have to meet theirs. And when she’d gone back to her flat, she’d tossed it in the closet, burying it under some laundry she’d never get to.

She didn’t want pictures, didn’t want memories, didn’t want to build a life here, she just wanted to get back home, back to him, her Doctor.

So it stays there for months, until Loki found it.

"Loki?" she called from the bathroom, her voice muffled through the door. "Can you grab my shoes from the closet?"

He sat on the sofa and pretended not to hear her.

"Loki! Please!"

He sighed heavily. “Fine! I’m going.”

He went to her room and opened the door to the closet. It was a mess, clothes and shoes strewn all over the floor.

"Which ones?" he called down the hall.

"The black ones!"

He stared warily into the debris. 

"Loki, for Christ’s sake, what is taking so long?" 

She opened the door and a light burst in front of her eyes, making her curse and lift a hand to shield them.

"I saw one of these on TV," Loki said with a grin. The photo slid out of the front of the camera, and he grabbed it. Her face bloomed out of the darkness of the paper, her eyes narrowed, her hand halfway to her face.

"Look!" he said, holding it where she could see it. "It’s you!"

She glared at him, then snatched it out of his hand. “I’m burning this.”

He laughed, raising the camera and snapping another picture, then bounding out of the room with it. His delighted laughter rang out from the other room.

"Rose, you look so angry! I’m keeping this one."

She rolled her eyes, storming into the room.

"Did you even get my shoes?"

"I could only find one," he said offhandedly, more focused on the picture than her question.

"Give that to me," she said.

"No, I think I’ll keep it," he answered. "It’s quite lovely." She took a step closer and he raised the picture in the air, waving it way above her head.

She lifted her arms to reach for it, and he stepped up taller, grinning smugly. Then, suddenly she switched tactics, grabbing instead for the camera in his other hand, successfully taking it and snapping a picture of Loki’s surprised face.

It took a second to develop, and then she was laughing, doubled over as she looked at the picture.

"Let me see, Rose." He leaned down, trying to catch a glimpse. She turned it and showed it to him. His mouth is an O of surprise in the picture, his arm stretched over his head and his eyes wide.

She was still laughing. “You can have the one of me,” she choked out between giggles. “But I get to keep this one.”

"I changed my mind," he said. 

"Too late," she sang, waving in front of his face. "It’s mine now!"

He pretended to sulk and she took another picture.

"Aww," she said, taking the camera and the picture and sitting down on the sofa. "Poor baby."

He folded his arms across his chest, glaring at her.

"Oh, come on. You started it." She patted the sofa next to her, and he walked over, settling down beside her.

"Smile!" She leaned into him, turning the camera to face them, and snapped a picture. It slid out, and after a minute came into focus.

"Loki!"

Rose is smiling in the photo, but Loki’s face is blank.

"I wasn’t ready!"

She held the camera in front of them again.

"Smile this time, alright?"

They wait as the picture blooms, showing both of their faces. They’re both smiling, but Loki is turned slightly towards her, looking at her rather than the camera. Her breath caught as she looked at the picture. In it, he stares at her like she’s something beautiful, like he can’t look away. She looked up from the picture at him, and he was already looking at her, the same look on his face. It hit her even harder now, and for a second they stayed like that, eyes locked. 

Then she cleared her throat, and looked away, blushing, and tossed the picture on the table with the others. He averted his eyes too.

"Hmmm," she said after a moment. "How about, scary faces?"

She held the camera out, baring her teeth as she pressed the button.

"Holy shit, Loki," she said a minute later when the picture was done. 

He is making his best evil glare at the camera, which looks terrifying compared to her silly toothy pose. He gave her a little shrug, obviously a little proud.

"Okay, one more," she said, holding out the camera. She was about to press the button when she made a split second decision, turning her face to press her lips to his cheek. 

But he moved at the same moment, about to ask what face to make, and their lips met, just as her finger pressed the button.

They were both frozen, the only sound in the room the click of the camera as it took the photo. It wasn’t clear who was more surprised, him or her, but after a split second, he made a decision.

He raised a hand to her face and closed his eyes, pressing their lips further together. He felt her sigh, and then she was kissing him back, her hands going to his neck. 

Her mouth had just opened against his when the camera fell off the couch and onto the carpet with a thud, startling them apart. 

She smiled at him, her cheeks flushed, and he smiled back. Leaning down, she picked up the camera and the picture off the floor. 

It had caught them right as their lips had touched, surprise etched on both of their faces. She held the picture out to him, and he blushed, and she felt her heart clench with affection. 

"I think we can take a better one, don’t you?" she said, with a grin.

*

She left a few days ago, but he can’t bring himself to leave their flat. A part of him hopes she’ll come back, that she’ll realize what a mistake she’s made and return to him. So he stays. 

He’s lying on the sofa, arm slung on the floor, when he finds the box. He barely feels it with his fingertips, under the sofa, but he pulls it out, curious.

It’s the photos.

The one on top is of him, holding another photo over his head so she can’t reach it. He smiles faintly at the memory, flipping through the rest of the photos.

He stops when he gets to the kiss. 

For a second he can’t breathe, remembering. There’s a lot more, under this one, ones they’d taken that night that he hadn’t known she’d saved, ones he knows will kill him if he looks. 

But he can’t help himself, he looks, at photo after photo of them, kissing, laughing, and suddenly he’s on the floor, surrounded by her and himself and them and their past and he’s yelling, his throat raw as he finally cries because she’s really gone, she really threw this away, threw him away.

He piles them all up, facedown, and strikes a match, tossing it into the pile, and then he leaves, smoke pouring out of the open door behind him.

Now he’s gone too.


End file.
